


Death In Paradise

by GoddessOfDestruction



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Bar Singer!Youngjae, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sad Ending, detective!jb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 11:09:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14163531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfDestruction/pseuds/GoddessOfDestruction
Summary: At least they died in Paradise.





	Death In Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WdDK4GA5bCw) while reading. The quote on Youngjae's photo comes from this song (though I did edit it a little).

  

They lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. The moonlight draws patterns on their naked, sweated skins. Their members are getting flaccid, the same way their muscles are going limp. A heavy scent of sex and cigarette smoke hangs in the warm, thick air around them. After blowing out a puff of smoke, Jaebum passes the cigarette over to Youngjae. They continue sharing the cigarette between them until it’s reduced to a small stub squished on the ashtray.

Youngjae lies on his stomach, wincing when he feels something poking his ribs. He grabs the tube of vaseline and puts it on the bedside table before getting comfortable in bed again. Jaebum lies on his side, head propped on his hand, grazing Youngjae’s back with the tip of his fingers. He leans down to press a kiss on the back of his neck, nuzzling the sweaty hairs on his nape. When Jaebum pulls away just enough to look at Youngjae, he raises his head to kiss him. Jaebum rests his head next to Youngjae’s, the two of them sharing a pillow, and lie there in silence.

Only now they become aware of everything that happened from the moment they entered the hotel room until now. It all happened so fast, so rushed. They were so needy of each other, pieces of clothes being stripped off and carelessly thrown away as they kissed, groped and moaned. One moment Youngjae was doubled-over on the room's writing desk, Jaebum thrusting into him, and the moment after, Jaebum was bouncing on Youngjae’s lap, the bed complaining under their bodies. And then they fell into a trance, imagining patterns in the ceiling, chests rising and dropping as they worked on recover their breaths.    

“You know that I can stop this –”

Youngjae shakes his head, “You’d just be delaying the inevitable. We both know that this is what waits us, soon or later.”

“Are you scared?” Jaebum asks, raising a hand to gently card through Youngjae’s hair.

Youngjae reaches for Jaebum’s hand that is still playing with his hair, intertwining their fingers. “No,” he smiles, “we’re in this together.”

“Together till the end.”

They roll out of bed and start putting on their clothes. Jaebum fixes the collar of Youngjae’s turtleneck and, in return, he ties his tie. They are face to face, taking in each other’s details like it’s their first time seeing each other. Tears roll down their cheeks as they sob quietly, foreheads resting against one another’s. They don’t say the _three words_ – they don’t have to. Instead, they pepper each other’s face with little kisses until _that_ feeling sinks in their stomachs. They’re ready. They lied down in bed and hold hands, fingers intertwined, remembering moments they spent together as they wait.   

Jaebum and Youngjae may seem like two world completely apart – one is a detective, the other a bar singer – but their paths crossed on a cold Saturday night, five years back, and everything seemed perfect. As usual after a day of work, Jaebum’s feet carried him in the direction of the _Papillon_ , a lounge bar in downtown Seoul. The band played as he leisurely sipped on his drink until a sweet yet powerful voice started singing, making him look back. His performance was short, since it was his first time, and once he finished singing, he took a seat at one of the stools at the counter as well, coincidentally sitting next to Jaebum. With a cigarette hanging between his lips, he turned to Jaebum and asked him if he could borrow his lighter. Jaebum yanked the cigarette from Youngjae’s lips, claiming that he was too young to be smoking – or to even be out in the city at such ungodly hours. Jaebum learned then that Youngjae was only two years younger than him, being eighteen of age, and that he had just recently arrived from Mokpo. That was the first of countless times they’ve sat at the bar, chatting.

Soon enough, people started talking about their proximity. At first, everyone thought Youngjae was a client, but then they concluded that they were friends. Other people, however, speculated that they were more than _just friends_ , especially after seeing them meet at the Paradise Hotel at least once a week. For the past six months, Jaebum had avoided a handful of murder attempts against him and Youngjae. Eventually Youngjae figured out something was wrong – he was no detective, but he wasn’t stupid. They both realized that, no matter how much they tried to escape, they were simply postponing their death sentence. So, they decided to give in and meet their end, together.

At one-thirty, the door slowly swings open, light eating away the darkness that prevailed in the room. The footsteps of their killer come to a halt upon finding them lying in bed, wide awake but not attacking him or resisting in any way.

Jaebum’s voice comes out barely in a whisper, “Go on.”

“We’re ready,” Youngjae adds.

They squeeze each other’s hands tighter and –

_Bang!_

_Bang!_

At least they died in Paradise.


End file.
